2 A M
by lovesrainscent
Summary: Nothing good ever happens past midnight.  Warning for implied underage and questionable consent.


**Title: 2 A. M.**

**Author: Lovesrainscent**

**Pairing: Jiraiya/Anko**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Naruto or these characters and stand to make no profit from posting this story.

**Summary: ** Nothing good ever happens past midnight.

**Warning:** Implied underage and questionable consent.

**2 A.M.**

Two in the morning. That's what the bright green glow of the clock on the bedside table said. It was mockingly cheery, piercing the darkness.

He heard the long shuddering inhale of the girl lying at his side, her back turned to him, clutching the sheet around her slim body. The glow from the digital numbers coupled with the moonlight through the window showed the darker outlines of Orochimaru's curse mark against her fair skin.

He recalled tracing his tongue across the same mark earlier in the evening.

It was two a.m. two years to the day after Minato's death and he had slunk back in to Konoha to see how things were in his old home village. He had no intention of checking in with Sarutobi or the missions' desk or anyone even remotely affiliated with the council or the administration of the village.

He was here just to see - just to see how things were now with Tsunade gone, Orochimaru gone.

And Minato dead.

The white-haired sannin had had no intention of speaking to anyone of Konoha, he only wanted to spy on them, the way Sarutobi had sent him to spy on his once best friend.

As luck would have it, the one person he had run into was Anko finishing her evening assignment of perimeter patrol.

The surprise and delight in the girl's eyes was completely unexpected and so he had done a foolish and completely unexpected thing - taken her for a drink. They went to a questionable little establishment on the edge of town. The barkeep had looked at him askance but Jiraiya placed enough coins on the counter to cover the bill and keep him quiet.

She'd seemed so bright and vivacious and alive, just like he'd always remembered her. His ego had swelled as he absorbed the fact that he was the source of her delight.

Alcohol lubricated the conversation and she had leaned in closer, aching for news of her old sensei his spying might have revealed and pleased to be involved in his own conspiracy, reporting to him the gossip of the village itself. She wasn't used to the drink. Jiraiya had been amused at her slightly intoxicated and definitely artless attempts at flirting.

The second foolish but perhaps not so unexpected thing he had done was to kiss her in that bar while the barkeep polished his counter and pretended not to notice the older man with the very much younger girl.

Her effort at kissing back was clumsy but cute and the spark of exhilaration that he felt from her was undeniable. She was thrilled to be with him. That had its own intoxicating effect on him.

The third foolish but by now to be expected thing he had done was to say quite artlessly himself, "Let's get out of here."

And Anko, desperate for attention in a village that had looked at her as if she were damaged goods for the last few years quite desperately had agreed.

Back in this room her breathy little gasps of pleasure had been intoxicating in their own right as he kissed her deeply and caressed her soft skin while she threaded fingers through his white hair. She was his link to the past, to the way things used to be and he was hers. But her eyes weren't gold and her hair wasn't blond; her skin though fair wasn't as pale as Orochimaru's. The breathy sighs and sounds of delight were what he wanted to hear. He pretended not to notice the whispered pleas of_ "wait..."_ and _"please, not yet..."_ and _"Jiraiya I haven't..."_

He hadn't expected to find her a virgin. And somehow that made him angry that the one thing Orochimaru had left unspoiled, he'd left for him to spoil. When he was spent he realized that her gasps had turned to sobs.

Sitting here, in the dark acting as if he didn't notice her trying to regain her composure beside him he thought that perhaps he should have taken things a little slower with her.

Anko probably deserved better.

But she was a shinobi and she might as well learn it now.

They were all fucked.

"You should go," he said gruffly as he reached for his pipe, filling it. After a long moment of silence, so silent that he almost wished for the soft sobs of earlier, she nodded.

Leaving the bed she dragged the sheet along with her, clutching it to her as if she could retain some dignity now. Her attempt to dress in the dark while still clinging to the sheet was pathetic and Jiraiya's only offer of assistance was once again to pretend not to notice.


End file.
